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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365236">hold me, thrill me, kiss me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda'>aunt_zelda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Collars, F/M, Kissing, Light BDSM, Painplay, Pet Names, Rope Bondage, Soul Bond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:34:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jon loves the collar. He loves the message it sends out to people: he’s claimed, he belongs to someone, hands off if you’re not her.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agnes Montague/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Femdom Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hold me, thrill me, kiss me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/gifts">skvadern</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Loved your prompts, wanted to write a short treat linking three of them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Georgie</b> </p><p>At first Jon balks at the collar. It seems so cliché, so obvious, so tacky. But he agrees to try it, for Georgie. </p><p>Ten minutes at the club and someone is cornering Jon, breath hot on his face, standing too close. Jon squirms and fumbles for the right words. </p><p>Georgie reaches over, tugging on the collar and glaring at the interloper. With a stammered apology, the interloper backs off and melts into the crowd.  </p><p>Jon loves the collar after that. He loves the message it sends out to people: he’s claimed, he belongs to someone, hands off if you’re not her. </p><p>“Should get you a leash, pup,” Georgie says one night. They’re cuddling in bed after a club night, Jon resting his head on her chest and Georgie’s fingers in his hair. He’s naked except for the collar. “Can’t always be grabbing you by the collar.” </p><p>“Mmmm, sounds nice,” Jon mumbles. Sleep is so close he can feel it. </p><p>“Very nice. Only the best for my puppy.” Georgie tweaks his nose. “Sweet dreams.” She flicks off the lamp. </p><p>Jon falls asleep quickly, the sound of her breath soothing him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sasha</b>
</p><p>“Do you know how many HR rules we’re violating?” Sasha asks.</p><p>“I do, in fact.” Jon says primly. </p><p>“Good. Count them off for me.” Sasha taps his shoulder with her shoe. </p><p>Jon is kneeling on the floor of his office. Sasha is perched on his desk. Sasha is holding a length of red rope in her hands. Jon aches to feel it tight across his body. </p><p>“And if I don’t?” Jon asks. He loves this part, the tantalizing edge where he doesn’t know what she’ll do except that he’ll doubtlessly like it. </p><p>“Then you’ll get a time out, that’s what naughty brats get.” Sasha smirks. “Now, will you be good today, or do you need to stand in the corner for a while?” </p><p>Jon blushes, stands up, and walks to the corner. </p><p>“Shoulders straight!” Sasha reminds him cheerily. </p><p>Jon straightens up. He feels a lovely surge of warmth running down his spine. </p><p>After a few minutes, Sasha is behind him, looping the rope around his chest and nudging his arms up. Finally she spins him around and binds his arms too, elbows and wrists and he’s snug and held and it’s perfect. </p><p>Jon sways in her grasp, lost in the sensation of gentle pressure. </p><p>“Whoa, hey, hey, easy,” Sasha guides him to the small couch wedged in the corner and steadies him. “Shhhhh, I’m here.” She leans against him. </p><p>Jon drifts, utterly content. </p><p> </p><p><b>Agnes</b> </p><p>Jon didn’t ask how she came back. Jon didn’t ask why she came back. </p><p>One day Agnes was there on his doorstep, her heat so intense that opening the doorknob reminded Jon of fire safety drill warnings. Jon had looked at her and she had looked at him and the weight of the bond that had held her and Gertrude entwined had throbbed between them, like an electric current or a carotid artery. </p><p>There’s no question of them separating. They exist together now, entangled as surely as if they’d been caught in a net together. </p><p>Jon doesn’t have to tell her what he needs. One day he’s tense from a horrid week at work and then Agnes is there, gently but firmly guiding him to the floor and holding him in place. Her grip intensifies and Jon holds still, even as tears stream from his eyes and his skin throbs with anguish. </p><p>Agnes needs it too. Agnes presses her face to his neck, his chest, her cheek to his, breathing deeply and savoring his pain. She traces a delicate tongue over his skin, lapping at the tears from his face, the sweat from his arms. </p><p>The first time she kisses him is hesitant. They both remember all too well what happened the last time she kissed someone. But he is something new, and while her kiss warms him to his very core she does not scorch him. </p><p>The next time she kisses him, she pins him to the wall and kisses him deeply. Soon he’s swearing from the proximity, pulling his shirt off and fumbling with his belt, letting his trousers fall to the floor. She slips out of her dress and stands naked before him, the warm flush of her belly and thighs pressed against him.</p><p>The third time she kisses him they’re in bed, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets. Their fingers are interlaced and her hair is splayed out like the sun on the pillow.</p><p>Jon revels in the deep-seated knowledge that he is hers.</p>
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